


According to Plan

by lydiamartin (dwinchester)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 17:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10340034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwinchester/pseuds/lydiamartin
Summary: How I Met YourMotherFather.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LauraElizaStilinskiHale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraElizaStilinskiHale/gifts).



> This became too big for a simple one-shot.

“You need to talk to him.” Stiles whispered outside their son’s door, giving Jackson a pleading look. “All of the usual methods I use aren’t getting me anywhere, and when I asked him what he wanted, he said he wanted to crawl in a hole and die. When Scott used to get like this, when _we_ were sixteen, I would either hand him a beer or smack him upside the head. It was fine, he wasn’t my kid. James is, though. Help me. For the love of all that’s holy.” 

Jackson laughed. “Just go downstairs and watch Star Wars or something. I’ll handle it.” He grabbed his husband’s shirt, tugging him backward gently when Stiles started walking away. “After you kiss me. Idiot.” 

Stiles’ eyebrow raised, but he smiled and kissed Jackson. “Go. Be a superhero.” He teased, fleeing the hallway. 

Jackson smiled, bemused, and knocked on James’ door. “Hey, I’m being polite and knocking, but since I paid for the entire house and most of the stuff in it, I think it’s only fair to warn you that I’m coming in, even if you tell me to go away.” 

James opened the door, running his fingers through his brown hair and smirking at his dad. “You tell me that every time. You’ve been saying it since I was two and colored all over the walls.” 

“Yeah. Well, as usual, your dad freaked out and I have to handle the clean-up. Or whatever you call this.” Jackson put a hand on James’ shoulder and pushed him back gently as he walked into the bedroom and sat in the desk chair. “What is this exactly, though?” 

“Cassie Dunbar.” James dropped into a sitting position on his bed, sighing. “I’ve decided to ask her out, but I don’t think I actually know how to do that. I know the logistics of it, like how to use the direct approach and just - just ask her. I’m not stupid. But I feel like it has to be a bigger deal than just tapping her on the shoulder and going, ‘hey, wanna go out?’ She means more to me than a simple question. Which I also know not to just tell her, either. That’s creepy. Like, we’re in all the same classes and she’s funny and doesn’t just sit there when the teacher makes a mistake, she raises her hand and says so. And everybody else in class looks like a zombie or something, they don’t even notice the mistakes, the way she does. Some of them even act like she’s being inconsiderate. Today, she raised her hand in Finstock’s Econ class and he wouldn’t call on her. It was obvious that he saw her, he asked if anyone else had anything to say, and she got irritated and got up from her seat and went to the board to fix his mistake, herself. That’s when I decided I had to ask her out, you know? She’s not afraid to do things that people might not expect, I should be the same way. At least, about her. Right?” 

Jackson’s smile had only widened as he listened to his son rambling about the crush he had on Cassie. “Okay, I can’t tell you what to do about this.” He shook his head. “Because if you ask her out and she says no, you’ll try to say it’s my fault. If she says yes and you get stressed out about what to wear or where to go, you’ll also try to blame that on me. And I know you will because you’ve got DNA from both of us and that’s the exact same shit your dad tries to start with me. Instead, what I’m going to do is tell you some things and let you make up your own mind.” 

James groaned and slumped sideways, pulling his pillow over his face. “Fine, go ahead.” He muttered. “I know you will, anyway.” 

Jackson patted his son’s knee. “When I was in kindergarten, I found out I was adopted. A lot of people thought I was an asshole for ignoring the Whittemores after that. Nobody ever really asked me how exactly they told me. They were filling out information on my allergies, medications, things like that. And they didn’t know what I might be allergic to. It made them argue about whether or not they should tell me, and I could hear the entire conversation. I told them to stop fighting, and then I never told them again that I loved them because I believed that real love was nice and not some need to shout at the person you chose to spend your life with. I didn’t choose them and they didn’t choose to have me, like they had told me a few times. So they had lied. I thought honesty was a big deal for a long time. The thing about being a teenager, though, is that you forget all of the stuff that mattered to you as a kid. It’s not like teenagers play with Lego blocks or play pretend at recess. Well, maybe some do.” He amended, thinking of Stiles’ video games. “So telling someone I loved them - that wasn’t easy anymore. I had to know that they were with me because they loved me, not just out of convenience. Beacon Hills is a small town and anyone looking to adopt here isn’t exactly getting a lot of choices.” 

“Can I hear this, too?” A sarcastic feminine voice called through the door. “Or is this some kind of male-bonding ritual?” 

James sat up and frowned. “Let her in.” He muttered. “She already knows I’m a hopeless mess.” 

Jackson snorted, but he turned and called out to his daughter. “Come on in, Mila.” 

The fourteen-year-old opened the door and closed it behind her, sitting down by her brother. Her hair was blonde like Jackson’s, but she had Stiles’ brown eyes and pale complexion. Both of her fathers thought she was beautiful, but she had recently insisted that they were biased and their opinions didn’t mean shit - a remark that Jackson had expected Stiles to admonish her for, but it turned out that despite being in law enforcement, Stiles was the more lax parent. “So?” She looked from Jackson to James. “What’s going on?” 

“Dad’s telling me what things were like when he was growing up.” James bent at the waist and reached under his bed, dragging a cooler out from under it and lifting the lid to retrieve a couple of cans of soda. He handed one to Mila and opened his own as he used his heel to push the cooler back under the bed. 

“Great, I fell asleep in history.” Mila smiled sweetly at her father. “Tell us all about the Middle Ages.” 

“You won’t live to see yours if you don’t watch your mouth.” Jackson spoke in a tone that matched his daughter’s. He was quiet for a moment, after he said it. He wanted to gather his thoughts, but he also wondered if it was really okay for him to speak that way. Stiles had started off saying remarks like that when the kids were in elementary school, and Jackson had been fearful that his husband legitimately meant them. Their past together indicated that he did, after all. But Stiles had reminded him that Noah Stilinski had said that and worse to Stiles, growing up. He had mentioned a time when Jackson wasn’t around, when the Sheriff had seen fit to handcuff his own son to a fixture in the office. Stiles’ love of bizarre pranks had obviously come from somewhere. Jackson, on the other hand, had grown up in a house (never a home) where he was barely spoken to unless he was disappointing someone. Across the street, Isaac Lahey had endured far worse, and Jackson had known that and done nothing. A joking comment about violence toward his kids still made him wary, but he had noticed that both James and Mila seemed to respond favorably to such things. 

“Dad?” Mila asked quietly, giving her father a quizzical look. 

“Yeah.” Jackson sat up straight. “I was just saying that my home life was kind of cold and unfeeling. I went to a private school for elementary, but I begged to go to public school for middle school, because my best friend in the neighborhood did.” 

“And that was Daddy.” Mila interjected. 

“Not even close.” Jackson laughed. “No. We kind of hated each other because there was a girl we were both interested in, and your dad was a brat and thought that he somehow had a claim on her because he had known her longer than I had. And I was jealous of him because I saw him spending time with his father and they got along really well. I didn’t get to have that. I didn’t even realize I had feelings for your dad until it was too late to do much of anything about it.” 

“But you’re together now.” James looked confused. “So what happened?” 

“It’s not that easy.” Jackson shook his head. “I used to call him names to get his attention. I didn’t realize that’s what I was trying to do, and it seems like something a preschooler would do. But he was just as bad about it. I had my girlfriend, he wanted her, my favorite teacher was his least favorite teacher. His best friend was going to ruin my chance for a scholarship that I really didn’t need, but I wanted it because it would mean not having to rely on the Whittemores for college tuition. So we had a lot of problems between us that made it seem like even being friends would be impossible. He punched me once, when we got into an argument.” He was careful not to mention all of the details surrounding that. He doubted that Stiles would appreciate either of their children knowing how they had been fighting for their lives, back then. “But I wasn’t angry. I think I kind of deserved it. And that was before we got together.” 

“Okay. So Dad hit you and you called him names, and this is what we have to look forward to?” James scoffed. “You seem like you get along.” 

“We do get along.” Jackson smiled as he heard Stiles start swearing and pounding keys on his computer keyboard, elsewhere in the house. “And I’m definitely not saying that you should ever date someone who thinks it’s okay to hurt you. The argument... we were in a situation that made your dad feel like he had no other choice in the matter. We’ve talked about it and we’ve moved on. The thing that made it all change was a sandwich.” 

Mila laughed, then stopped when she realized Jackson wasn’t. “Wait, seriously? You fell in love with him because of a sandwich.” 

“Because the bad situation got worse and the lack of options became even more of an issue for your dad, and when I didn’t have anyone else around to help me through...” Jackson grimaced, feeling like he was backing himself into a corner with his storytelling. “Maybe I shouldn’t bother with this.” 

“No, go on.” Stiles smiled and put his arms around Jackson, leaning down for a kiss before he looked up at their son. “You. I know you stole the soda from the kitchen, give me one.” He held his hand out. 

“Dad’s telling us how you two started dating. Sort of. He’s taking a long time to get to it.” Mila rolled her eyes. 

Stiles opened the can that James had given him. He took a sip, keeping his other hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “Just tell them the whole thing. They’re old enough now, I think.” 

“What whole thing?!” Mila squealed. “What happened?” 

“Thanks.” Jackson muttered dryly. “You know she’s not going to stop bothering us about it now.” 

Stiles shrugged and sat down on the floor. “They’re both sitting here and listening, shut up and take it for what it is.” He blew his husband a kiss and grinned. 

“I had trouble controlling my shifting.” Jackson murmured. “Someone took advantage of that, and your dad figured out what was going on. He found a way to hold me captive, away from anyone that I could hurt, and he made sure I got something to eat. He didn’t like me, so he didn’t have to. But even in a situation I saw as him being cruel, he was actually being kind. I just didn’t want to listen. I got a restraining order against him, instead. I felt smug about it because it was the first time my adoptive father did anything that was for me, not just for himself.” 

“Yeah, and then I got suckered into driving Lydia to the warehouse.” Stiles muttered, shaking his head. 

“And then I left and felt like an idiot for two years.” Jackson countered. “So really, we were both dumb. But when I graduated from school in London, I came back here right away and... I didn’t have the first clue how to talk to him about it.” He admitted. “I’d been driving Danny and Lydia nuts for two years, asking for updates about everyone, just to cover up the fact that I really only wanted to hear about _him_. I wasn’t sure how to do that, either. Like you.” He nodded to James. “I thought I would be kind of stupid to just go up to him and ask him out. There was too much more that needed to be said, first. And I couldn’t figure out how to say ‘sorry about that restraining order’ without sounding -” 

“Like a douchebag.” Stiles finished for Jackson. 

“Thank you.” Jackson laughed and leaned down to kiss Stiles. “Every day with you is a treasure, babe.” He turned toward the teenagers again. “When I was with Lydia, I gave her a key to my house as a way of saying that I cared about her. I tried giving your dad a key to start with, hoping he would understand what it meant.” 

“I asked him what it was for, and then I gave it to Scott.” Stiles laughed. “He had keys to everywhere else, I gave them to him.” 

“And you can imagine how I felt when I heard that.” Jackson shook his head. “From what I remembered of them, they were always together and I thought maybe they had just made it official before I could say anything. I was ready to give up. I’m not a fan of trying too hard with other people. Or at least, I wasn’t. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I was kind of annoyed. I came all the way back to this town to tell him how I felt. How I had fallen for him just from what I heard about him, while I wasn’t around. I didn’t like Scott at all, and I was starting to understand how your dad had felt about me being with Lydia, because that’s how I felt when I was so sure that he was with Scott.” 

“What did you do, though?” James laughed. “Like I already said - you’re together now, so it worked out for us, since we exist.” 

“It took him a year.” Stiles grinned. “First, the key thing didn’t work, and then he invited everyone to play lacrosse, even though that was a horrible plan.” 

“It was not a horrible plan!” Jackson snapped, shaking his head. “It just didn’t work out how I wanted it to.” 

“See, first of all, everyone did show up. So that was amazing, because everyone is always arguing with everyone else over something, in our group of friends. But then we had to choose teams. You can’t play lacrosse and have everyone on the same team. And since Scott and Jackson had been co-captains when they were both living here, it kind of made sense to have them each be captain of their own team.” Stiles’ smile turned sheepish. “And then Danny was on Jackson’s team by default, and I was on Scott’s. Everyone else kind of went where they always went, and then Jackson’s team lost. And I gloated. I gloated a lot.” 

“He called me every morning for the next few days, waking me up and yelling in my ear about how I had lost.” Jackson snorted. “And the sick thing was, after the second day in a row, I was looking forward to him calling me on the third day. I was going to ask him out. I _did_ ask him out. I was tired of trying subtle ways to get his attention.” 

“Yeah, except it went like this...” Stiles looked up at Jackson, quoting himself from years earlier. “Good morning, Jackass! We won, you lost! You lost!” 

“Go out with me.” Jackson smiled fondly as he repeated the blunt way he had tried to get Stiles’ attention back then. 

“What - I don’t - go to hell!” Stiles laughed as he pantomimed hanging up his cell phone. “And then I didn’t call him again. I was mortified because I thought he had found out something and was using it against me to humiliate me, somehow.” He licked his lips. “Because while he was developing an interest in me from across the ocean, I was doing the same thing, about him. It was more gradual for me, though. Danny and Lydia would ask me how I was doing or what I was doing, and Lydia was becoming a friend of mine, but Danny and I barely spoke, except for when he wanted an update. I asked him why he kept checking in with me, and he admitted that Jackson was pressing him for details about me, but said it wasn’t anything to worry about.” 

“And of course, you worried.” Jackson smirked. “Because you do.” 

“Yeah.” Stiles nodded. “I started looking up anything and everything I could find about Jackson. Like it was a war or something. Know your enemy. By the time Jackson came back here to Beacon Hills, I had fallen pretty hard for the guy who had stopped being such an ego-driven pain in the ass. It was obvious from his posts on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Which I was following under a fake profile.” He smiled at his husband. “I stalked you. But after the key and the lacrosse game, and the way he asked me out, I started avoiding him. We would be in the grocery store and I would duck into the next aisle if he was in the same one I was in.” 

“I thought he really didn’t want to see me. That I had messed up too badly. But it made me want to try harder. I invited him to the party that Lydia had for me, for my eighteenth birthday. He didn’t show up.” 

“What?” Stiles demanded. “Yes, I did! I brought you a present, too. I had agonized over it for six months, because I thought about getting you something for Christmas and Scott told me that was a little bit weird, since you weren’t even in the same country and had no idea I liked you. And then Lydia said kind of the same thing, that I had a habit of buying affection. Or trying to. And I needed to stop. Anyway, I got you a frame. A picture frame. For your high school diploma. It seems stupid now, but it made perfect sense at the time.” 

“I never got that, and I didn’t see you there.” Jackson reached for Stiles’ hand. “What happened? We could have been together sooner, maybe?” 

Stiles entwined his fingers with Jackson’s and smiled at him. “Drama with Scott, Allison, Kira and Isaac.” He explained. “Kira was already drunk when I got there, and she was stumbling around by the pool. Allison asked me to help her with getting Kira somewhere safe, since Lydia probably would have murdered both of them for disrupting her party. Isaac saw it as the perfect opportunity to ask Allison out again, while Kira was throwing up in the bushes and I was just standing there, holding her hair and praying that she didn’t throw up on me. I had changed my clothes five times before I got there, trying to find the right outfit because I was going to tell you how I felt and I was nervous. And with my stomach being in knots and Kira emptying hers right in front of me... everything kind of sucked, that night. And then Scott made it worse.” 

“I’m sure he did.” Jackson muttered. 

“Hey, he’s still my best friend.” Stiles shook his head, smiling in exasperation. “Scott’s a great guy and he’s good with details when he wants to be, but he also has a habit of overlooking things. He told me later that what happened was that, uh, this is gross, sorry. Kira’s vomit overpowered her usual scent, so he didn’t realize it was her. And the reason she had been drinking was because she was pretty sure Scott didn’t want to be with her anymore. She was right. She was throwing up, and Allison was telling Isaac to leave her alone, she was kind of busy. Scott came up and completely misread the situation in every possible way. He didn’t realize his current girlfriend was the one being supported by me and his ex-girlfriend, so he asked Allison if there was a chance of them getting back together. Kira started yelling in Japanese. She doesn’t even speak it, but she knows the swear words, so that was a bad sign. Allison yelled at both of the guys to stop asking her out, and she said she was dating Lydia. Isaac said something crass, and Allison punched him. He stumbled backward and into me, and I fell. Guess where I landed.” 

“Eww!” Both teenagers cringed. 

“Yeah, eww.” Stiles nodded. “So then all four of them were yelling at each other and I got the hose to try to clean myself up, but I had enough of their crap and sprayed all of them with it, once I was done taking care of everything else. The Jeep wouldn’t start, so I had to get it towed, and I walked home in soaking wet clothes. I didn’t even leave the house or talk to anyone for two weeks after that. I was sick and then I was just tired of everyone around me.” 

“What happened to that frame? I never got it.” Jackson frowned. 

“I don’t know, Lydia probably kept it.” Stiles shrugged.


End file.
